2 Corinthians 12:7–10

He has been in the third heaven. He had received this wonderful abundance of revelations, and the flesh says to him, "No one has ever been in the third heaven except you." … He is not puffed up while he is there, because it is the presence of God, and nobody can be proud in the presence of God. People imagine that being in the third heaven makes a person proud. Never! The danger is, once you are out of the third heaven, that the flesh becomes proud of having been there.

It is said that "thorn" hardly conveys the sense adequately, and that "stake" would be better. We do not think much of thorns and remove them easily, but a stake in the flesh is far more serious and completely crippling in its effects. What Paul was referring to we do not know. It is probably left vague on purpose, so that all our attention rests on one fact: any affliction, even the most damaging kind, can be turned into an occasion of spiritual preservation and gain.

It is "to keep me from becoming conceited" — not bringing me back after failure, but preventing the failure from ever happening. It was a grievous thing for Paul; a messenger of the devil. Who but God could use Satan against Satan? This very thorn, this messenger of Satan, took away from Satan the power to work on Paul's flesh. … We are very prone to use the language of unbelief and say, "This or that happened to me." Would it not be far more blessed to say, "God sent me this or that"? Is there not a sweetness about anything, however grievous, when I can say, "My Father's hand in watchful love brought me this thorn"? "A thorn was given me in the flesh" — it was not a crushing trial that happened to me; it was a given mercy.

We should rather say that the devil was permitted to deal him heavy blows, for everything that happened was beneath the hand of God. It was with Paul as it had been long before with Job: we can trace three causes. The third causes were fire from heaven, whirlwind and evil men in Job's case, and the thorn in the flesh in Paul's. Behind these in each case lay the power and hostility of Satan; but behind him, as the first cause, was the hand of God. Job's safety and blessing lay in turning away from the third causes, and even from the second cause, so that he might accept everything from the hand of God. It was the same with Paul.

This discipline is suited and adapted to each individual soul. This, I have no doubt, is why all speculation about the nature of Paul's thorn in the flesh ends in nothing. God has wisely seen fit to leave it untold. If God had made it known, we might have decided that it was not ours, and left it there. Leaving it untold lets us see a great principle of God's dealings, seen in this man's case but applicable to all. Each would have his suited "thorn". It is the very thing that would counteract his natural tendency. So it strips him of every claim to power and breaks any imagined strength of man.

Here is a man who has seen the glories of heaven. He comes to earth, and what does he find? Not glories and honours, but the thorn in his flesh, Satan's messenger. He is to learn that the only vessel out of which such glories can shine is a broken vessel. Otherwise he would be puffed up by the revelations. And there is great danger that the precious truths that belong to us as men in Christ may simply feed our natural pride.

If you would not be overcome by temptation, be much in prayer. Prayer is the best antidote against temptation. Christ prescribes this remedy: "Watch and pray that you may not enter into temptation" (Mark 14:38). When Paul had "a messenger of Satan to harass him," he took himself to prayer. When Satan assaults furiously, let us pray fervently.

Very naturally Paul took himself to prayer. It was intense prayer: he not only requested but pleaded. It was repeated, for he pleaded with the Lord three times.

A careful look at the Scriptures shows that there are particular subjects which we more fittingly bring before the Lord. For example, there is a special relationship between the servant and the Lord. He Himself taught His disciples this: "Pray earnestly to the Lord of the harvest to send out laborers into his harvest." The apostle does the same. In the matter of the thorn in the flesh, which he felt was hindering his service, he addresses himself to Christ as Lord.

The thorn in the flesh was truly humbling to the great apostle. This is clear from what he says to the Galatians: "though my condition was a trial to you, you did not scorn or despise me." It was something that made him easy to look down on as a preacher. He thought, no doubt, that it would greatly hinder his usefulness; but he had to learn that the great hindrance to usefulness is the flesh.

Three times (like the Lord with reference to the cup He was to drink) the apostle asks Him that the thorn may be taken away. But the divine life is formed in the putting off of self. That putting off is worked in us as we become conscious of how unsuited this flesh is — the flesh we like to gratify — to the presence of God and to the service we are called to.

The apostle's first thought was: could I not get out of this difficulty? Believers think they need only get out of their circumstances. But don't you know that if you did, you would take with you the nature that makes your circumstances so trying? Here the apostle goes to God to change his circumstances; we often change them for ourselves. He said, "Take it away, Lord," three times. What a contrast to the threefold prayer of the blessed One to His Father, ending with, "Not my will, but yours, be done." It was the perfection of Christ to shrink from drinking that cup. Paul, imperfect and feeble, prayed: Lord, change my circumstances. The answer came in this: Do you want Me to put you in circumstances where you will not need My power? "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness."

Yet for all that, his desire was not granted. Instead of having the thorn removed he received the assurance of abundant grace — such grace that the thorn would become an asset rather than a liability, a means of blessing rather than a hindrance. The Lord answered his prayer, but not according to his thought. He gave him instead what was better.

But his prayer did not match the mind of God, who had a better thing in store for Paul — a thing Paul would have lost if his request had been granted... To present our requests, with submission, is always our privilege. Paul's example shows this. He pleaded with the Lord for his desire not once only, but three times. The result was that he became so submissive that in the end he took pleasure in the very weaknesses he had begged to lose.

Paul turned to prayer, as anyone would. It was intense prayer: he did not just ask, he begged. And he repeated it, begging the Lord three times. Yet his desire was not granted. Instead of having the thorn removed, he received the promise of abundant grace. That grace would turn the thorn into a help instead of a burden, a blessing instead of a hindrance. The Lord answered his prayer, but not in the way he expected. He gave him something better.

He prayed three times for it to be removed, and it stayed. But it became the occasion for a fresh promise of abundant inward grace, in those unforgettable words. It is not only grace, but MY grace, not only strength, but MY strength. You can only measure that grace and strength by the divine and eternal fullness of the One whose they are. Set beside that greatness, how small Paul was — and we are smaller still.

At first, Paul longed to be rid of the thorn in the flesh, whatever it was. But the thorn in the flesh was better than pride in the heart. It was far better to be afflicted than proud. It was better to have Christ's sympathy with him in his trial than the power of His hand taking him out of it.

Christ is not speaking about Paul's ability to meet the trial. He is speaking about His own heart with Paul in it, to brighten everything. He says, "You want the thorn removed, but I will leave it. It will make you lean on My arm… I want you to see how living My grace is, and I want you to rest your heart on it. I will leave the thorn just to make you feel what you have in Me."

The thorn is not power in itself, but preparation for power. Suppose Paul was despised in his ministry: well, there never was such a work done before. Then there must be something here besides Paul; Christ must be here… Where is His strength made perfect? In a person who has no strength at all: then it must be Christ.

The Lord never gives us strength of our own; He makes us feel our dependence. I am made to feel my weakness when I see how my flesh would even twist the blessings that are mine in Christ.

The first sentence of this verse is sometimes overlooked — "He said to me." Paul got it from Christ. You may tell me that Christ is enough, but I must hear it myself from Christ in heaven. That will settle my heart… Before, he begged the Lord to take the thorn away. Now a message from Christ has changed everything. The voice of Christ changes everything. There is no third party here; it is not He and us, but He and me.

This weakness keeps the flesh from boasting. It also becomes the occasion for Christ to display His grace and power. So from now on the Apostle boasts in the very weakness he had wanted removed. He can take pleasure in the very things that we by nature find so hateful — weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions and distresses.

Having been in the third heaven did not give the strength. In a sense it made the weakness necessary, and then the strength came in. We do not know how to be weak, and that is our weakness.

At first, Paul longed to be rid of the thorn in the flesh, whatever it was. He begged the Lord three times that it might depart from him. But the thorn in the flesh was better than pride in the heart. It was better by far to be afflicted than puffed up — better to have Christ's sympathy with him in his trial than the power of His hand to deliver him out of it.

This is far more than defeating mighty enemies by faith and patience. It is taking pleasure in what is most trying and overwhelming to nature, so that Christ's strength may be displayed. Where the flesh might rise up, it is put down. This way of dealing with us is the life of the Spirit. But Christ makes the bitter sweet. His power can make its home in us when we accept our nothingness and rejoice in it, if only it brings Him praise and glory.

This weakness keeps the flesh from boasting. It becomes the occasion for the display of the grace and power of Christ. So from now on the Apostle boasts in the very weakness he had wanted taken away. So he can take pleasure in the very things that our natural selves hate — weaknesses, insults, needs, persecutions and distresses. All these things were for Christ's sake. They showed the weakness of the body, and they showed the power of Christ too. That is why the Apostle can say, "When I am weak, then I am strong."

The Apostle had learned to take pleasure in these various forms of adversity. In Romans 5 he tells us that he boasted in tribulations because he knew what they were designed to produce in Christian character. Here he takes pleasure in tribulations for a different reason. He had discovered that they were the way the power of Christ became active through him in service. The very weakness he was plunged into made him a fit channel for that power to flow out.

It was a great revelation to him that his ability for service lay in his weakness... in his imagined strength he was weaker than water; but in his weakness he was invincible, for the power of Christ rested upon him... He says, as it were, to His servant: the weaker you are, the better for Me. It is only the weak I can use.

You may say, "That must be a miserable experience." Well, Paul was not miserable; he was supremely happy... He was happy to have all his own strength reduced to nothing, so that instead he might prove the sufficiency of the Lord's grace and Christ's strength.

We are never so strong as when we feel ourselves weak, even like "water spilled on the ground, which cannot be gathered up again." On the other hand, we are never so weak as when we imagine we are strong. Peter never showed more pitiful weakness than when he imagined he had unusual strength.